universe, you've done it again.

in my unexpected day off, i was going through some things and found this. i'm not sure what the source is, but it obviously it spoke to me at the time and certainly does today.

"a knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. in this sense, and only this sense, i am a deeply religious man... i am satisfied with the mystery of life's eternity and with a knowledge, a sense, of the marvelous structure of existence -- as well as the humble attempt to understand even a tiny portion of the reason that manifests itself in nature."

nighttime

i had climbed in bed, stretched, yawned, and arranged the blanket. i savor those first seconds. all the day's tension diffuses, displaced by comfort--a comfort that's more valued because it's fleeting and soon gives way to hot sheets and a smashed pillow. if i can keep my mind at bay during this time, it's suddenly 3:00am and i'm waking up to a cat on my head. if, however, a huge explosion goes off outside my house then it makes for a bit more trouble falling asleep. which is what happened. after several more crackles, the boom revealed itself as just one of a series of firecrackers, but it got me thinking all apocalyptic. not quite in the terrifying way the end of the world really would be, but more imagining so much humanity and activity just one day disappearing.

during this time i must've had my eyes closed because i opened them to find a huge object looming right above my face. it was so close, so big, and so nondescript. a shot of adrenaline ran through me before i realized what it was: a pillow.

i've thought about death a lot lately. seems to be the result of actual deaths, watching dead like me, and a few ridiculous conversations with my mom about where she'll live after my dad dies....a friend at work hates when people even mention the word. i understand it's not pleasant to think we'll one day all be six feet under, but that's just the thing--one day we will all be six feet under, or else a million little ashes. it's one thing we can all rely on. like the saying goes, death is the great equalizer. and in a weird way, i find it sort of reassuring. it's not like there's a chance you could be the only one of your friends and family that goes while everyone else is left to live for the rest of eternity. sure, you might kick it a few years or--worse case--decades before everyone else, but what's 20 years on an endless timeline?

this isn't to say i'm not scared of dying. frankly, i'm not quite sure how i feel about it, but i do know that me ignoring death won't result in death ignoring me. plus, contemplating it now as opposed to on my death bed seems likely to make the whole ride a bit smoother.

last night when i was striken with terror as a foreign, black shadow loomed in the room only to be a harmless cloth stuffed with feathers, i wondered if that wasn't what death might be: something we spend our whole lives fearing only to find that not only will it do us no harm, but it makes sleep a lot more comfortable.

death by cotton

tomorrow my nephew turns 9. i was 14 when we was born, and i have no recollection what 14 felt like anymore. on the phone yesterday my mom sounded exactly like my grandmother used to: she kept interrupting me because she thought she knew what i was going to say, or else she just couldn't really hear. i've been out of high school for a decade.

on monday i was sitting on the red line subway with my sunglasses on and my ipod in. i wasn't in a bad mood by any means, just in the post-work zone out. i was listening to grizzly bear's veckatimest for the second time. something about the music, the motion of the train, the way i had isolated myself in this sea of people, it all led me to thinking about death. in the time it took to go from the chicago stop to the north/clybourn stop, i felt more alarmed about dying than i had in a long time. i used to say i wasn't afraid to die, and i think that was true. i also don't think i was looking it square in the eyes.

this morning, when walking to the el, there were thousands of the those little cottony things that come from who knows where this time of year. there were so many it looked like it was snowing, and i was admiring the beauty of the feathery wisps and marveling at this snow scene in june when all of the sudden one of those little fuckers flew directly into my eye!
that's what i imagined death to be like the other day on the train.

was nice to know you

i frequently catch the cat drinking out of water glasses, and have relayed this to my parents who scoff in disbelief. tonight, she shoved her face into my glass. as i was on my computer, i decided to get a picture for proof.

you would think that after going so far as to take a picture of the act i would remember, 15 minutes later, that the cat--the cat who drools nasty mucus, the cat who has horrible smelling breath, the cat who drinks out of the toilet--had drank my water.


you would think.
but i didn't think.
and i just drank the rest of the water.

i hate myself.